Read the following poem. Give me a thoughtful reaction to it for extra credit. If you get it in by Monday, March 28th, I can tack it on to your 3rd quarter grade. If not, consider it 4th quarter points.
The Word That Is a Prayer
by Ellery Akers
One thing you know when you say it:
all over the earth people are saying it with you;
a child blurting it out as the seizures take her,
a woman reciting it on a cot in a hospital.
What if you take a cab through the Tenderloin:
at a street light, a man in a wool cap,
yarn unraveling across his face, knocks at the window;
he says, Please.
By the time you hear what he’s saying,
the light changes, the cab pulls away,
and you don’t go back, though you know
someone just prayed to you the way you pray. Please: a word so short
it could get lost in the air
as it floats up to God like the feather it is,
knocking and knocking, and finally
falling back to earth as rain,
as pellets of ice, soaking a black branch,
collecting in drains, leaching into the ground,
and you walk in that weather every day.
Questions to consider for your thoughtful response: Think about a time when all you could say was please. Did someone hear you? Does this poem capture the feeling of being unheard or dismissed? Think about adding a stanza of eight lines to this poem to describe your experience.
Prefer French poetry? Try this one on for size.
Le Printemps
by Théophile Gautier (1811 – 1872)
Regardez les branches
Comme elles sont blanches,
Il neige des fleurs.
Riant de la pluie
Le soleil essuie
les saules en pleurs.
Et le ciel reflète
Dans la violette
Ses pures couleurs…
La mouche ouvre l’aile
Et la demoiselle
Aux prunelles d’or,
Au corset de guêpe
Dépliant son crêpe,
A repris l’essor.
L’eau gaiement babille,
Le goujon frétille
Un printemps encore !
Springtime
By Théophile Gautier
Look at the boughs,
How white they are,
It’s snowing flowers.
Scoffing at the rain,
The sun dries
The weepy willow.
And the sky reflects
In the violet
Its pure colors…
The fly opens its wings
And the dragonfly
With the golden pupils,
And the wasp-like corset,
Unfurling its veil,
Has resumed its flight.
The water happily babbles,
The tiny fish wriggles
It’s Springtime again!
Again, give a thoughtful response, an additional stanza, a word of wisdom by Monday and get extra credit for 3rd quarter. Otherwise, extras for next quarter. Enjoy!
Ça donne à réfléchir
(That's food for thought)Read the following poem. Give me a thoughtful reaction to it for extra credit. If you get it in by Monday, March 28th, I can tack it on to your 3rd quarter grade. If not, consider it 4th quarter points.
The Word That Is a Prayer
by Ellery AkersOne thing you know when you say it:
all over the earth people are saying it with you;
a child blurting it out as the seizures take her,
a woman reciting it on a cot in a hospital.
What if you take a cab through the Tenderloin:
at a street light, a man in a wool cap,
yarn unraveling across his face, knocks at the window;
he says, Please.
By the time you hear what he’s saying,
the light changes, the cab pulls away,
and you don’t go back, though you know
someone just prayed to you the way you pray.
Please: a word so short
it could get lost in the air
as it floats up to God like the feather it is,
knocking and knocking, and finally
falling back to earth as rain,
as pellets of ice, soaking a black branch,
collecting in drains, leaching into the ground,
and you walk in that weather every day.
Questions to consider for your thoughtful response: Think about a time when all you could say was please. Did someone hear you? Does this poem capture the feeling of being unheard or dismissed? Think about adding a stanza of eight lines to this poem to describe your experience.
Prefer French poetry? Try this one on for size.
Le Printemps
by Théophile Gautier (1811 – 1872)Regardez les branches
Comme elles sont blanches,
Il neige des fleurs.
Riant de la pluie
Le soleil essuie
les saules en pleurs.
Et le ciel reflète
Dans la violette
Ses pures couleurs…
La mouche ouvre l’aile
Et la demoiselle
Aux prunelles d’or,
Au corset de guêpe
Dépliant son crêpe,
A repris l’essor.
L’eau gaiement babille,
Le goujon frétille
Un printemps encore !